


Broken Legacy

by Drake_The_Traveller



Category: Star Fox Series, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6360910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drake_The_Traveller/pseuds/Drake_The_Traveller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mandalorians are the greatest mercenaries in the known galaxy, a culture that views warfare as both a living and profession. Most of their society is shadowed in mystery, but all know they are warriors without equal, excelling in combat in all its forms. Roaming the vastness of space as nomadic soldiers for hire, they earn their living waging war on the behest of their handlers. Many have garnered galactic notoriety, carving names and reputations for themselves in the conflict zones scattered throughout space. Among such well know figures is a Bounty Hunter by the name of A'den Lok. Lok seeks vengeance for an unforgivable atrocity that befell him in his childhood, and he is willing to do whatever it takes to track down the information he seeks and find the man responsible for his misery. Close to his goal, the mandalorian is invariably mired in the muck of galactic politics, where there is no middle-ground or abstention, only a decision to make... which side to place his bets. Plagued by forces beyond his control and his own warped morality, A'den must discover if the price of the truth is really worth paying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Broken Legacy

Prologue: Call In a Professional

 

Business…

In the end everything came down to business. Even the march of progress across the great unknown had been spearheaded by countless mega corporations of innumerable species, all vying to dig their avaricious clutches into the resource rich galaxy.  Yet it was because of this net of materialistic organizations that they were eventually united, their desire to protect their interests resulting in the formation of the old galactic republic.

But their greed only forestalled conflict as they bickered over resources and the sovereignty to preside over them, weakening their hold. The Mandalorian and Clone Wars debilitated them considerably, paving the way for the newly fashioned Empire that currently lorded over the galaxy. Yet despite the turbulence of the times, one could always rely on business, especially now.

With the Empire’s focus on corporate affairs and the ensuing deregulation of interstellar trade, competition between varying commercial firms exploded. The Empire was a tantalizingly lucrative contract, and any who garnered its favor were, for all intents and purposes, handed a blank check. This led to the unavoidably fierce and bitter rivalry between corporations, each willing to go to any conceivable lengths to undercut their competitors. Corporate theft, fraud, and bribery were the words of the day, as each affluent business devolved into little more than permissibly recognized crime syndicates without any form of restrictions or moral reservations.

SoroSuub, Incom, Baktoid Armor, BlasTech Industries, and Loronar Corp; these were the biggest faces in the galactic industry, responsible for supplying the Empire with its massive fleets, advanced weaponry, and vast legions of oppressive stormtroopers, the recognized symbols of imperial pacification. However that did not mean they all got along, the political climate was rife with backroom deals, espionage and underground assassinations.

In spite of his well-deserved reputation for cruelty, the Emperor was not a fool, far from it. Pitting the corporations against one another kept them firmly planted under the yolk of imperial rule while still giving him what he desired, the resources to fuel his tyrannical reign over the known galaxy.

Without these businesses the Empire could not function, unable to fund the monumental despotic regime in its efforts to suppress the ever present public unrest.

Without these businesses, A’den Lok would be out of work.

He was himself a businessman… of sorts, a company man one might even say. His work involved all those morally questionable things, hired muscle for backroom deals, espionage against some company or other, and of course the occasional assassination contract. He was a veritable jack of all trades, perfect for the ever shifting balance of powers.  And he was never lacking for a job. Resentment was an emotion all species seemed fond of, so there was always a calling for a man of his… specific talents.

Of course, not anyone could just throw themselves into the parasitical corporate underworld and have any chance to hope to survive. For that one required talent, a benefactor with powerful influence, or at the very least, the right set of contacts. Being a mandalorian, he had these in spades.

In fact his services were in high demand.

Mandalorians were the finest mercenaries in the known galaxy, their culture molding them into unrivaled warriors of skill and valor. Though, in recent years their reputation has been somewhat faded but has yet to lose its lauded luster. Mandalorians were still a force to be feared, with their merciless reputation, affinity for warfare, strict adherence to the little-known _Resol’nare,_ and their mythically impenetrable armor, said to absorb even a blade stroke from the legendary poster weaponry of the extinct Jedi order, the lightsaber.

Given the impartial nature of his occupation, A’den worked for a company just as often as he worked against them, his allegiance carrying over to the highest bidder. Such a situation, while lucrative, was likewise dangerous. It was not all that uncommon for corporate hit squads to be sent after him by his previous employers.

In not for his skill and decidedly unique trump card, he might not have lasted as long as he had in such a treacherous occupation. Yet there was a method to this madness.

A’den was looking for someone, and he needed their information to find them. So though he had originally operated as a bounty hunter/mercenary during the clone wars, at its end he changed professions to the corporate sector, following the trail wherever it took him. His one mission in life to find and kill the one he hunted.

It for this that A’den traveled to a place he would rather leave forgotten.

Nar Shadda, colloquially knows as the _Smugglers Moon_ , and with good reason. The entire planetoid was little more than a foul den of lawlessness and debauchery, embodying all that was wrong with the galaxy. Slavery, spice dealing, prostitution, and countless other depraved and illicit acts were practiced freely in the streets. The only sense of justice was the one you brought with you, and that often ended behind the barrel of a smoking gun. Criminals, bounty hunters, and hutts called it home.

A’den, well he called it _dar’yaim_.

Hell.

 

*****

 

A’den grimaced in distaste as his ship, _Gra’tua_ , fell under the grips of Nar Shadda’s gravity well, pulling his starborn home, down towards the surface. He had yet to touch the ground and already his hate for the moon reemerged, as dark and cancerous as Nar Shadda itself. It had been years since he had come back, the last time had just been at the end of the Clone Wars, taking refuge from the newly minted Galactic Empire. That’s what he earned for his years of service as a merc fighting on the behalf of the Grand Army of The Republic, to be hunted like a good for nothing womp rat, not moments after the violent change in management.  

Needless to say that had cultivated a deep distaste for the new regime, not that it prevented him from working for them on occasion when he had the chance. After all, they still paid top dollar and were his best shot at securing the location of his target.

The current problem arose after he had ended up on the Empire’s most wanted list, right above a fellow called Han Solo and a few unlucky individuals under Boba Fett, though from what he heard his fellow mando had reached some sort of understanding with them in recent years. He was not so lucky, which was why his current pool of clientele was reduced to unsavory localities as this. The last contract he had with the Empire landed him in seriously hot water and he’s been underground since.

What he learned from that whole unpleasant affair was that having a heart was bad for business. A merc could not afford to have a soft spot, all it did was make it that much easier for a blade to sink in.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

Guiding his freighter down to one of the landing pads on the upper levels, A’den was loath to leave it unattended. Even the upper levels were dangerous, the local police so corrupt that they were often worse than the criminals they supervised. Fortunately, one of his previous jobs had paid out with an onboard ship security droid, an HK unit, one of those ancient models from the times of the old republic.

The thing was older than sin and it had taken him months, and all of his technical knowhow, to even get it moving, in the end spending more credits then it had been worth and at least twice as much as the job had paid, and that was without its vocabulator.

All the damned thing ever did, was stare at him. But at least it would protect his ship from thieves, and that was all he really cared about. The HK series had been created to serve as cleverly disguised assassin droids, imprinted with enough self-awareness and dexterity to be considered extremely dangerous. The seller had promised that not only was it useful, but had a long and fabled history. However, he didn’t put too much stock into the crazy hermit’s promises.

Though…he could see what looked like old saber marks scarring its orange plate, even through the centuries of rust buildup. Which meant that it had, either tussled with a Jedi, Sith, or at the very least someone wielding a lightsaber. Not only that, it had to have been made of _beskar_ , good ol’ fashioned mandalorian iron being one of the few materials in the known galaxy capable of mitigating the power of their blows. That reason alone was why he accepted the old codger’s contract. The droid intrigued him and he hoped to one day get it fully working so that they might talk and he could uncover the truth behind it.

A’den unbuckled himself from the cockpit and slid down the short iron ladder to the crew quarters with the intent to arm up for his assignment. Nar Shadda was not the type of place one circumnavigated unprepared, every street corner and back alley was potentially lethal, the local gangs killed indiscriminately, uncaring of who might be caught in the crossfire of their trivial little wars.

Heading to the ship’s improvised armory, A’den ran a hand across the riveted steel of a passing bulkhead, reminiscing of the moment it had become his.

_Gra’tua_ had been a special gift from his uncle, Krussk. Originally it had served as the old trandoshan’s workhorse, and a legendary one at that. _Gra’tua_ was a Stathas-class freighter, only a few ever being manufactured by MandalMotors.

These specialty vessels were created to look like their normal counterparts, but were in fact heavily retrofitted, allowing them to contend with ships several times larger than themselves. His model was designed off the specs of the YU-410, an already extensively armed light freighter, though its shields and firepower had been boosted considerably, all illegal modifications. With four double laser cannon turrets, a trio of concealed proton torpedo launchers, one diamond boron missile silo, a pair of ventral turbolasers, and an advanced hyperdrive and engines, the _Gra’tua_ sported enough firepower to go toe-to-toe with most imperial vessels, all except the feared symbol of the Empire’s naval authority, the star destroyer.

A’den was not one for subtly. Like his fellow mandalorians, his preferred method was shock and awe. He had little proficiency, or desire, to be discreet.

Though, its munitions upkeep was almost so outrageous to render its use debilitating. Each boron missile alone cost him upwards of 20,000 credits in part to its rarity and power. And while he was not poor by any means, he preferred to not have to resort to such extreme methods, if just to spare his many bank accounts.

The illegal nature of his ship and standard arsenal entailed that any credits he earned had to be laundered through several false accounts and were mostly hidden in the stocks of the various companies he worked for, under a plethora of false identities and pseudonyms. It would not do for a credit trail to lead right back to him, especially with the sizeable imperial bounty on his head. He had the respect of the majority of his fellows, but A’den was not one for pushing his luck.

Though it would be quiet amusing to see who first came to collect.

Smiling softly to himself at the thought, the mandalorian keyed the code to his personal stowage and stepped into the small chamber to arm himself.

Over the years, he had acquired numerous weapons and other trophies for his ever growing collection.

A’den liked to keep things from his target bounties to commemorate his success, their weapons or bits of armor, even animal pelts and claws. He considered them a source of pride, both as a mandalorian and bounty hunter. Seeing as most of his brethren were the same, as often as not boasting to each other on the size of their gains back on Mandalore.

He had the scarred hide of an alpha nexu he had hunted on Cholganna, the broken fang of an elder rancor he encountered on Felucia, and the headcrest of an acklay that had once been a pet to a hutt crime lord.

There were bits of white plastoid armor from rather tenacious imperial stormtroopers and tattered blue and red rags from defiant rebel uniforms.

A’den worked for whoever hired him at the time, be it the rebellion or the empire. This did not entail him the gratitude of either faction, though they would grudgingly lease his services nonetheless. For no matter what, he always produced results and his loyalty could not be swayed or purchased…at least until the end of the contract.

The mandalorian had hunted down rebel leaders and assassinated high ranking imperial officers, ran blockades to transfer valuable freight to hidden rebel bases and helped in raids to crack down on their influence. A’den remained impassive to either faction, deciding to remain neutral in the galaxy wide conflict. He cared little for the outcome, as long as the victor gave him what he needed.

The only thing he cared for was information pertaining to the location of the one he hunted. And he was willing to do whatever it took to get it, no matter how dark the imperial agenda or how righteous the rebels believed their cause to be. As long as they supplied him with credits and information, he would work with whoever paid his high price.

After all, it was just business.

A’den crossed his room of trophies and weapons, stopping in front of a stand displaying a full suit of mandalorian armor in all its burnished glory. It was as much a part of who he was as his own soul. A vital portion of mandalorian culture was not just speaking the language or knowing the history; it was wearing and respecting the armor, of complete loyalty to Mandalore and its people.

To a mandalorian, your armor was your legacy, just a part of what made you one of the _mando’a_ as any of the other actions of the _Resol’nare_. Each individual crafted it to their own wishes, painting it with colors to signify the emotions and beliefs of the person behind the mask. At a glance a fellow mandalorian could get an acute understanding of their comrades and their principles.

A’den’s armor was of the darkest black, with dull sand gold markings written in ancient mandalorian cypher.

Justice, vengeance… that was what he stood for. And his colors would remain unchanged until he found and killed the one responsible for the crimes against his clan.

Acting quickly, A’den donned the welcoming and familiar _beskar’gam_ , a process that took several minutes to finish, firmly buckling the various straps and accruements in place with gloved fingers unhindered by their bulk.

His armor was somewhat different from others. Unlike most of his comrades who preferred to keep it light and flexible. A’den desired a suit with only one purpose in mind.

Battle.

Most had a half and half ratio of _beskar_ to durasteele, providing a malleable and concurrently effective protective outfit fit for a variety of roles.

A’den’s armor was derived from assault troopers in the ancient neo-crusades of old. The legendary warriors had been the tip of the spear during the mandalorian wars. And just as there armor had been, his was almost entirely composed of pure _beskar_ , with powered servos to help the operator maneuver the cumbersome plating. Little more than a direct hit from a heavy assault blaster would do little more than scratch the paint. Its standard gauntlets had been replaced with a pair of crushguants, something outlawed by conventional mandalorians, not that he cared for that. Their outlaw was more of an old restriction that had been forgotten to be removed; at least that’s how he liked to interpret it.

So far he had yet to be corrected.

These gauntlets were weapons in themselves, enhancing the user’s strength to the point where they could crush durasteel and pulverize bone with equal ease. It even allowed the wearer to grip the blade of a lightsaber, offering numerous tactical advantages over force users, who despite the best efforts of the Empire, were far from extinct, attested by the sabers of a few he had encountered, scattered about his collection.

On its back was the iconic symbol of mercs and bounty hunters, the JT-12 jetpack.

It and the Z-6 were emblematic staples of soldiers of fortune all across the galaxy. As dangerous to the operator as to the enemy, these devices were not often used. Fragile, they did not take much to catastrophically damage, resulting in user death or mutilation. But when used effectively it was an invaluable tool of the trade. Equipped with a concealed MM9 missile launcher, it gave its operator a one-time use holdout for the more dangerous marks or vehicles. With an armor-piercing warhead capable of plowing through the hull of an AT-ST with ease, it was good to have when in an unavoidable bind.

That of course, and his trusty DH-X heavy blaster. An experimental prototype and gift from BlasTech, one of the more reputable companies he had the pleasure to work for. It hit slow and hard, capable of dropping any sentient and most large creatures in a single high-powered shot. Its muscle was balanced by its weight, the weapon large enough to make it difficult to wield without the necessary training and upper body strength.

The DH-X came with a wide selection of mods. A’den usually hunted with a recoil compensating stock and close combat scope, a perfect balance for his preferred method of warfare, up close and personal. And with the range finder on his helmet capable of linking with his HUD, he could accurately drop a target a kilometer downrange if the need arose.

For anything closer than blaster range he had a pair of unique items to deal with that. Yet do to their… distinctive nature, their use could only be in the gravest of emergencies. Until such a time came, they would remain firmly latched to his belt.

A’den took a few minutes to inspect his gear, ensuring that their recent lack of use had not resulted in degradation that could prove to be his undoing. With the pre-mission checklist in order, he concluded he was ready to begin.

Stepping down from the stand, he grabbed the cloak hanging off the wall, an article of apparel designed not just for appearance,  but also serving an important function. The black cape of armorweave was inlaid with scales from a gold krayt dragon he had hunted on Tattooine, bolstering its protection while enhancing his reputation with the clans. He had taken down the impressive beast on his own, skinning it and using its scales as added armor and presentation. He might have had a little demolition assistance in taking it down, but that did little to dull the magnificence of his accomplishment.

A’den finished admiring his possession, connecting the prized cloak to the clamps on the seam of his gorget. The mandalorian slung his helmet in the crook of his arm and followed the hall down to the cargo bay, where the ramp would take him outside.

He was not eager for what was coming.

The job itself was pretty simple. Find and eliminate a zabrak by the name of Chord Poftme. It seemed Chord swiped some dirty company secrets from Incom with the intention to sell it to SoroSuub. And that just would not do. Less than a day after his theft, A’den received a call from the local system representative of Incom, accepting the contract a short time later.

With the nature of the shady terrain and the high level of Chord’s offense, kill or capture was optional, the choice residing with him. For the sake of making it easier on himself, he had preemptively decided to just off the pile of _osik_.

To be honest, A’den could care less about the concerns of the _aruetiise._ All that mattered was that the fellow had a 25,000 credit bounty on his head, dead or alive, one he intended to collect. This zabrak was going to pay for _Gra’tua’s_ maintenance costs for the rest of the month as well as his other supplies.

Problem was, Nar Shadda was a big place with a lot of ground to cover. It might take days or even weeks to flush the _di’kut_ out of hiding. Staying even a few minutes on this planet was nearly insufferable, so A’den was not looking forward to what could possibly turn out to be a week’s long manhunt.

He used to have connections here that might have been able to help him out but it had been so long that most either died or went into hiding themselves. This meant he was going in blind, usually in such instances he would hire on a fellow hunter and split the earnings fifty-fifty. But any he might find on the moon were more trouble than their worth. The bounty hunters here were not truly warriors, but thugs. They had no honor and it was more likely they would put a blaster bolt into his back as soon as the job was done.

This would have to be a one man job, which meant the sooner he started the sooner he could leave this trash heap of a world.

A’den jumped from the short ladder to the cargo bay, heavy armored boots connecting to the deck with a dull clang. The man scanned the area, searching for HK. The droid’s unnerving stare had earned it a posting down here, where it was out of sight and out of mind.

_‘I really have to get his vocabulator fixed.’_ The sooner the droid stopped giving those silent death glares, the better. The hermit who gave him HK promised that the machine would not try and kill him, that he would obey his owner without question.

Yet after seeing that intelligent and malevolent amber glow in its photoreceptors… A’den kept his room locked and heavily encrypted when he slept. He had been thinking about slapping a restraining bolt to its chest, but had yet to do it. Though machine, A’den had decided to give HK the benefit of the doubt… for now.

As he thought of HK, A’den noticed a pair of glowing lights about chest level with him, originating behind a self-refrigerated crate of nerf steaks, the temperature monitored by a microchip installed inside the container, supplies he was to offload at his next port for a bit of extra cash. After all, there was no rule in regards to how many jobs one could take at a time.

“HK?” He asked uncertainly. It could be no other, but that did not make it any less strange.

In response a low clanking signified the approach of the droid in question, HK carrying a short range assault blaster in its mechanical hands. A’den had offered it a pick from his entire stash and the droid had simply walked past the racks of exotic weaponry and retrieved the small blaster. It packed one hell of a punch but he figured the droid would have gone for something a little more… intimidating.

HK tilted its angular robotic cranium as if to respond.

The lack of a back and forth was distinctly unsettling, the sooner he got the droid’s vocabulator the better. The only problem lay in the fact its parts were nearly impossible to find or replicate. Do to HK’s unique antiquity; they were either buried in junk heaps on scrap worlds or hidden in some rich collector’s personal museum.

In fact he had only managed to get the droid’s servomotors by conducting a heist on a wealthy business tycoon’s summer palace on Courascant. And he had no desire to get tagged by the aristocracy, already having enough trouble dealing with them. It would take time before he could find the next component and let the heat die down.

Besides its vocabulator, HK was basically back to full function, just a few odds and ends, small pieces to improve his overall performance issues.

As he mused silently, the droid patiently waited for orders. Upon seeing this, A’den cleared his throat in awkwardness, not that HK cared, and focused on his robotic associate.

“Ah yes, there you are. HK, I need you to protect the ship while I’m gone. No one is allowed onboard except for myself.”

The droid nodded, lacking the means to verbally respond.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find your vocabulator, just wait a little longer.” A’den felt a small amount of guilt that he had yet to find it. He could only imagine what it must be like, unable to speak. And his imaginings were not pleasant.

HK nodded again in mute acknowledgment as A’den moved to the tiny rectangular control box at the front of the bay, slapping the glowing green button with a closed fist and initiating the descent of the turbolift that would take him outside.

A brief and powerful gust of depressurizing air followed by the gentle whirring of the freighter’s inner mechanisms announcing its activation and he watched the large rectangular lift start its fall.

The hunter trod onto the lift and eased his helmet on, welcoming the sudden influx of information from his heads-up display as it booted up his tactical software and connected with the monitoring systems inside the armor. With the latest logic firmware from Incom installed, his suit had gained the capability to monitor his life signs and give updates on any change in condition. It also was capable of preforming real time threat assessments on any sentient or creature he came across, offering a tier system from one to five, five being the lowest and one obviously being the most dangerous.

A’den liked this function in particular, it would be of serious help here on Nar Shadda, lowering the chances he might get caught off guard by several percentages.

With his helmet on and sealed, A’den shouldered his blaster and turned back to HK one las time.

_“Take care of my ship.”_ His now altered voice gave one last repetition of his command in a low machinelike growl. The alteration served a multitude of roles. It provided a certain factor of intimidation when dealing with prospect bounties or targets, made it so people and hostile spyware could not pinpoint his voice, and offered an advantage when debating on the price of a contract. One would be surprised to learn how much extra he had made by a simple modification of his tone. After all, appearance as much as skill played into this type of business. The more intimidating one was, the less likely it would be for a mark to try and run or do something stupid and more likely the employer would shell out a few extra credits. So if it even made one job easier or more lucrative, he would gladly utilize it.

The bottom of the lift connected with the deck of the landing pad as A’den scanned his environment, immediately on the prowl for dangers. This place was not the kind where you dropped your guard, even for a moment.

All he wanted was to deal with the dock master and get out of the port and into the city commons.

It did not take him long to find who he was looking for.

A’den was not usually one for stereotyping, but in some cases it was safe to do so. The person in question sat outside his little booth, flanked by a pair of fairly imposing gamorians, the green skinned porcine aliens clutching their familiar axes in sweaty palms.

He did not like neimoidians.  They were generally tall, thin, and quite possibly one of the vilest species in the galaxy. Their entire civilization thrived on trade, all kinds of it, no matter how unsavory. So they were particularly suited for Nar Shadda, almost as much as the hutts.

Already regretting his meeting before it occurred, A’den meandered through the nearly empty port, only a few pilots and the occasional dock worker bumbling around. There were a few species in the mix, a couple twi’lek smugglers, their race easily identifiable by the pair of nerve bundles on their scalps, a twin set of hair-like tails.

From what he heard about their women, those were particularly sensitive to touch, though he had yet to find out for himself if that was true.   

A’den did not find them that attractive. Personally, he preferred women with a little more bite, and hair for that matter.

Besides the twi’leks, there were a few rodians, a greenish hued race with large black eyes and rough pebbled skin.

A few verpines buzzed and chattered beside an odd oblong vessel, perhaps a couple of traders from one of their asteroid based hives. A’den was not a fan of their species, more so then neimoidians, being a man who did not like insects. Not that it stopped him from doing business with them. Verpine were for all intents and purposes a race of bipedal bugs, compound eyes, chitin exoskeleton, flanged mandibles, the whole deal.

As stated, he was not a fan.

Yet despite the wide range of bizarre races, one in particular caught his interest.

Sprawling off to the side next to the smallest freighter he had ever laid eyes on, was a felinoid of indeterminate species.

There were quite a few sentient feline races in the galaxy, the cathar, farghul, and bothans to name a few, though none shared common ancestry or ties of allegiance and bothans were more like if a cat and a dog were mashed together. This usually meant they were a relatively common sight on the many populous worlds across the galaxy. Yet this one was not like any he had met, a short stature recognizable even at this distance and completely covered from head to toe in a shade of uniquely colored fur.

She, for she could be nothing else, was pink, bright pink, almost neon.

The feline reclined on a self-made hammock, utilizing a pair of unmarked crates and a tarp to support the lazy lounger. He could not see precisely what she was doing, but it looked like she was taking an aptly named cat nap.

A’den had to admit he was intrigued. It took a certain kind of courage, or foolishness, to leave oneself so exposed in a place like this. 

But as interesting as the sight was, A’den was here on business.

The mandalorian crossed the rest of the distance to the dock master’s booth, stopping just in front of the window.

The neimoidian didn’t even bother to glance up as he slothfully perused his terminal.

“The fee for docking is 750 credits.”

_“….750 credits?”_  He inquired in mild amusement, folding his arms as he stared down into the diminutive bureaucratic cubicle.

A’den knew an extortion racket when he saw one. The mandalorian had been on both sides of the fence before. The guards were also an obvious tell, no port needed two heavily armed gamorians to protect one unimportant booth attendant.

Nodding, the alien glanced up indolently, most likely armed with a derogatory quip in regards to his hearing. Only for his jaw to drop jaw in horror as he realized the type of person he was attempting to casually extort.

While their reputation was not as meaningful as it used to be, on some planets it still held all of its power, Nar Shadda being one of them. There were more than enough mandalorians that frequent this place to ensure their status remained absolute, and there was no mistaking what he was with the iconic T-shaped visor and memorable armor. A’den watched in good humor as the alien’s heart rate spiked on his HUD.

The neimoidian was quick to rectify his actions. “I am profoundly sorry, Sir. That was a clerical error with the terminal. The price is 100 credits.”

_“Ah yes, as I thought.”_ A’den nodded expectedly, reaching into his belt to retrieve the specified amount.

He could have probably dropped any fee with a few well aimed words, but he was not that kind of guy. He did adhere to some of the rules.

A’den just decided which ones were worth following.

“Hey, don’t you forget about me!”

The mandalorian paused mid-transaction, the pile of assorted credit chits resting idly in the palm of his gauntlet as he glanced over his shoulder to identify who had decided to speak.

It was the feline he had been observing. Somehow she had made it all the way over to his position without him noticing. It was quite impressive for someone to get the drop on him like that, but also a sign that he should be wary. She was able to bypass his HUD’s monitoring system and his own substantial abilities. Such was enough for him to give her a second and more thorough assessment.

On his closer inspection, he learned that she was definitely shorter than him, only reaching about mid-height with his breastplate. He could deduce that since his stature was around 6’6 in imperial standard, she could be no more than 4’4, maybe 4’5, even with those long triangular ears, below which, was a pair of bright blue eyes and a roguish smirk that appeared to be permanently splashed onto her muzzle.

She wore a red leather vest with a bleached white crop top underneath, sporting a cat-eared heart at the center that was stretched over her rather hefty bust. The black belt around her slender waist held up a pair of dark blue pants fit inside brown, knee-high boots and a holstered blaster found itself wrapped haphazardly around her thigh. Other than that he could see no other weapons then the claw like nails on her paws, claws that he noticed, were painted red.

“Is… _she_ , with you, Sir?” The neimoidian had a somewhat irritated expression as he glanced over A’den’s shoulder, and his tone was not devoid of distaste.

The mandalorian had a brief internal debate with himself on whether to go with the feline’s plan. Putting the pieces together was easy. With the unbelievably high fee to enter the city, she had been stuck out here until she paid, whether she did not have the funds or was waiting for some gullibly fellow to take the price for her was the question he was interested in answering. 

With an internal shrug he decided why the hell not. It was only an extra hundred credits and he was not exactly hurting for them. But that did not mean he was going to take her ploy without a little retribution.

A’den scrutinized her silently behind his visor, letting the cat know that he had caught on to her game.

In reaction, the smirk she held cracked a fraction, letting him see the beginnings of worry take over as she considered that he might call her bluff. The cat’s tail slunk to her side and her expression adopted a look of unease.

The mandalorian allowed her to ruminate in her own discomfort for a few moments before he reached back into his belt and extracted the additional cover for the docking fee.

_“She’s with me.”_ He finally answered the booth attendant, slapping down the pile of credit chits and listening as the feline behind him gave a quiet exhale in relief.

The neimoidian gave no answer as he quickly swiped the pile of credits off the counter and into his waiting hand, storing them in the register and waiving them through with the other.

“Alright come through, but don’t cause any trouble.” He added jokingly.

Nar Shadda was not the kind of place for that.

A’den chucked and muscled his way past the two gamorians, who were far too afraid of him to retaliate as he pushed them to the side and entered through the small gate.

After all, one had to keep up appearances. 

“Toodles!” The cat impishly waved her furred fingers at the alien in the booth and gave a toothy smirk as she followed in his footsteps.

Once they were a short distance away and out of sight, A’den rounded on her and abruptly seized the collar of her shirt, roughly driving the feline into the closest wall and calmly jamming the barrel of his blaster pistol into her exposed belly.

_“I don’t appreciate being played, cat.”_ He growled irritably, bolstering his point by prodding her stomach again with the blaster. Know they were alone he could truly show her how much he disliked it.

Despite his rough handling, the feline grinned cheekily up at him, apparently unconcerned with the probability that he would plug a few blaster bolts into her stomach and no one would offer so much as a second glance, not here. It would be nothing new if he shot her down in cold blood right here, the local law enforcement would not even bother to show.

“Thanks, that neimoidian was a total a-hole. I mean really, 750 credits? I could practically rent out that dingy little berth for a _month_ with that kinda dough!” The feline babbled casually, even as she was suspended several feet in the air, the tips of her boots just scrapping against the garbage strewn floor. “Just look at that place, even a 100 credits was way too much if you ask me. All that dust and grim, when I first got there I thought the whole port was shut down!”

Great… she was a windbag.

A’den had neither the time nor patience to deal with the likes of her. Scoffing and releasing the feline from his grasp, the mandalorian took his leave, stepping out of the small hallway connecting the port with the main level.

Out in the open polluted air, A’den was instantly reminded why he held such loathing for this place. The corner building right outside was a slave market, made obvious by the chain-led and miserable unfortunates put on display as an auctioneer went about his morbid work. If it was up to him, he would have shown their operation exactly just what he thought of it. But even he could not take on a whole planet, and trying to help them would only damage his reputation.

No. Unfortunately for these slaves, there would be no hero to rescue them. All A’den could do, was be happy he was better off than they were.

Life was often hard like that.

“Sad sight isn’t it?”

_“Better them then me.”_ He replied neutrally, glancing to the cat standing beside him. This time he had heard her approach and was curious why she had done so. He had already made it quite clear that she was not welcomed.

“Harsh…” She muttered, looking up into his helm reproachfully.

If she thought such a look would have instilled a sense of guilt in him, she was utterly mistaken. He had long ago cast away such sentiments.

Guilt was bad for business.

_“So is life…”_ He grunted stiffly in return, shifting his back to her and taking off down the street. The Incom rep had told him that Chord would most likely already be working for the local SoroSuub office, which meant the Zabrak would probably be found somewhere on the upper levels where the better off inhabitants could be located and was the reason he had come here.

“Hey! Where are you going hot stuff?” The cat yowled, jogging to catch up with his tireless pace.

A’den plowed a path through the bustling throng of aliens, his very looks enough to create an artificial barrier around him.

Humans were in short supply in places like this. The Empire’s clear doctrine of xenophobia did not make humanity a welcomed species in the farther reaches of space where imperial jurisdiction was at its weakest. Just as they oppressed, so they were oppressed in turn, though it was hardly true that every human held the same beliefs. Not that they cared, just wanting an outlet for their fruitless aggression. Far better to beat on a few harmless humans then deal with the Empire’s ruthless shock troopers.

A’den knew it was because of things like this that the status quo would remain unchanged.

“Hey! Did you hear me? I’m talking to you asshole!” She hissed, marching besides him in an attempt to grab his attention.

That cat really was persistent wasn’t she?

_“Didn’t you get the message? Bugger off!”_ He snarled, increasing his pace to try and lose her in the crowds. Though, this time his natural aura of intimidation and unique presence fought against him. It was hardly an effort to see the mandalorian amidst the mob and she had little difficulty navigating through the open patches.

A’den’s next step was halted when the feline snatched his bracer and tugged, the action forcing him to stop and confront her, the throngs of passerby’s ignoring their interaction as nothing they had not seen before.

“Wait, please!” She begged, sounding desperate.

Growling. A’den turned to face her, glowering down at the feline in irritation, unrestricted gauntlet resting on the grip of his blaster pistol.

_“Why? You got what you wanted already.”_

At his accusing rasp, her muzzle lowered, eyes downcast.

“I’m sorry to have used you like that. But I just didn’t have the money to pay off that sleazeball.”

_“What, you want credits?”_ He sneered and pulled his arm away from her paw and resumed walking. _“I’m not a charity kid, get lost.”_

“No wait, that’s not it!” She denied adamantly, keeping pace with him. “Though, I do need your help.” She admitted guiltily.

_“My help?”_ That really got him. A’den could not help but chuckle at her expense. _“Look kid, I don’t help people, unless they got the credits for it. And from what you told me, you’re fresh out of luck. Go ask some other meatheaded thug.”_

“That’s the problem, I can’t.” She muttered, stopping with him as he paused at an intersection to check his HUD. The local Incom office was a few blocks down and he was hoping to go there first to see if he could get a few tips on the area and what he might be coming up against. They had a private investigator looking in to Chord’s whereabouts, some cheap hire they could easily dispose of if need be, such was the business.

“If you haven’t noticed, the people on this planet are not the trustworthy sort.” She frowned, watching as a rodian was held up at blaster point in the middle of the street, the crowd simply increasing their distance as they walked by.

_“Hadn’t crossed my mind.”_ A’den voiced blankly. _“Besides…”_ He wondered aloud, folding his arms and looking down to her. _“What makes you think you can trust me?”_

“For one, you didn’t kill me when you could have.” She replied with a weak grin.

_“You’re lucky I was in a forgiving mood, one that’s expiring rapidly.”_ He uttered pointedly.

“That’s already better then what I was probably going to get from the locals.”

_“What is it that you want anyways, kid? Did someone steal your lollipop?”_ A’den watched in amusement as her ears flared up in sync with her temper. Despite his outwards displeasure, he did find this conversation to be somewhat entertaining. It had been a while since he had held a dialogue that was not solely based on his work. He usually travelled alone and HK was not an experienced conversationalist.

“Firstly, stop calling me kid. I’m twenty-five years old. Secondly, no one stole my _lollipop._ ” She spat. “I need someone found and killed.”

_That_ caught his attention.

_“Really now…”_ The mandalorian smirked underneath his helmet _. “If that’s so we might have been able to discuss business, however. Unless you have the credits to hire my services, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time.”_

“How much would it cost?” She asked hesitantly, fearful of his answer.

_“Don’t bother asking.”_ He waived dismissively. _“I can tell you right now that you can’t afford me. I’m not a dime store merc, which means I don’t come cheap.”_

“How… Much?” She demanded forcefully, tail lashing in anger. It was clear the feline had no intention of backing down.

She had spirit, he’d give her that much. It was for that reason he humored her.

_“Hmm…”_ He pondered, already knowing the answer but taking his time delivering it. “ _Minimum contract fee for a single target is 10,000, twice as much if you want them dead, killing complicates things. Each additional bounty multiplies the fee by a factor of two, and it would have to pay as much as the bounty I’m putting on hold, plus extra for wasting my time. Seeing as that’s 25,000 credits, I would need say… a solid 30 grand to make it worth the effort.”_

The feline flinched at every increase in the cost as if struck, that was quite obviously more than she could hope to afford. That came as no surprise to him, there was a simple reason he worked for companies.

They paid more.

“That’s…. steep.” She mumbled quietly in defeat.

_“I told you. I’m not a dime store mercenary. I earned that cost.”_ The bounty hunter responded somewhat less harshly than he had before.

He knew what it was like to be powerless. He had not started off with all of his skill and money. It had been a long and hard road to get to where he was. A’den had been through a lot of grief and spilt his fair share of blood for it. Sighing, he patted the cat on the back and turned to leave.

_“Sorry kid. I don’t give handouts.”_

“Would you at least hear me out?” She whispered to his retreating back, her soft tone stopping his boot mid-step, shifting back to face her.

_“I suppose I could do that much. But don’t think I’ll fall for a sob story.”_ He replied, nodding slowly. _“I will admit my curiosity, who could you possibly want dead?”_ Sure it was a big galaxy, but not many people went to bounty hunters or mercenaries with petty grudges they could solve themselves.

“It’s not so much that I personally want them dead,” She admitted, rubbing her paws together anxiously. “More so I need someone to help me get the job done. I didn’t come to this garbage dump because I wanted to. I’m here on a job, freelance investigation, working for a corporation. And with this kind of planet I’ll need help if I want to get anyway... alive anyways. I know where he is, but I can’t do it by myself.”

A’den frowned, the coincidences were too much to discount. But the chances for it were immensely implausible.

_“Does this target go by the name of Chord Poftme by chance?”_ The mandalorian asked reluctantly, yet already knowing what the most likely response would be.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Yes… but how did you know that?”

The bounty hunter chuckled, shaking his head ruefully as he stuck his gauntlet out for her to shake. _“Today’s your luck day, kid. Name’s A’den Lok, and I was tasked with taking Chord down, on the request of the very same firm that hired you I would imagine.”_

_‘Though I can’t imagine why they would.’_ He thought to himself. She looked a little too green for this line of work. And judging from how she handled things so far he could not be that far from the truth. Then again he imagined she was pretty cheap, countering the cost of hiring an individual like himself. It made sense, not from his point of view, but that of a business.

_“It would seem that for all intents and purposes we’re business partners.”_

The feline adopted a doubtful expression as she shook the proffered hand, wincing as she experienced a small fraction of its capabilities. “Really…?”

He nodded. “Incom told me about an investigator, though I imagined someone a little less…”

“What… furry?” She frowned. An expression he admitted was not all that unflattering.

_“No… annoying.”_ He replied with a masked smirk.

“Hey!” She hissed, only causing him to chuckle as he turned, motioning for her to follow with a casual waive of his hand. Now that he learned she was on hire by the same firm, he supposed he should keep her around. She was quite possibly his only ally on this entire planet.

What a dismal thought.

Shaking her head in exasperation, the feline jumped into step behind him.

A few minutes later something crossed A’den’s mind as he walked.

_“So kid, what’s your name?”_

He heard the cat sigh from his side, probably trying to figure out if she had been better of stuck at the port.

“Katt… Katt Monroe.”


	2. Chapter 1

Broken Legacy

Chapter 1

 

_“Cat… your name is Cat?”_ A’den deadpanned. He had to admit her name was not all that original. Still, it was a better conversation starter than anything else he had in mind. He doubted she would like to discuss the finer aspects of bounty hunting. And it beat the silence. He had more than enough of that dealing with HK. It was just a good change of pace to not be speaking to a droid that could not respond, even if she was rather annoying.

From what he had gathered from her, Chord had rented an apartment only a few hours walk from the local port, maybe more if this heavy flow of pedestrian traffic remained the same. Despite the length of time, he had no wish to acquire an aircar. A’den had his fill of those flying death traps in the skylanes of Coruscant. The only airborne vehicle he trusted was his own.

“No.” The feline muttered huffily and crossed her arms as she walked, clearly having dealt with this situation before. “It’s Katt, with a K and two T’s.”

_“So… its still cat, just spelled differently. Didn’t your parents have any sense of imagination?”_

“Oh yeah? And what about yours? At least mine makes sense. What kind of name is that anyways, _A’den_?” She retorted with a perplexed frown, the unfamiliar name rolling awkwardly off her barbed tongue.

“It’s _mando’a_.” He replied, eyeing his HUD as they traveled through the streets. So far everything looked about as safe as he could expect from Nar Shadda. They were a few shady characters prowling about the crowd, his display alerting him to their various records and bounties. If he wasn’t already on a job he might have just grabbed a few. Instead he satisfied himself with marking them for later. Who knows, this trip might turn out to be more lucrative then first projected.

“What language is that?”  The feline asked, her tone more curious than frustrated, as it had been since they met.

“It’s mandalorian.” He replied absentmindedly, his thoughts lingering on how fast he could finish this contract and head back to Mandalore. It had been too long since he set foot on his homeworld or encountered one of his _vode_.

“Mandalorian? Never heard of it.”

_“Really?”_ That caught him by surprise. He had yet to encounter a single sentient that had not heard of them.

“Fraid not…” She confessed, resting her paws behind her head as she plodded along next to him. “I’m not from the core. My home’s a planet at the edge of the outer rim. It’s a pretty small system, only a few worlds. Our species don’t really leave all that much. It took me a few weeks by hyperdrive just to get here.” Katt pulled her muzzle open into a wide yawn and stretched her arms over her pointed ears. “You would not believe how cramped that little ship can be after a couple of weeks. Even this place started to look good.”

A’den was too distracted to care about the giggling feline or her wisecrack. He was occupied with trying to calculate where she could have come from that would take weeks to reach here. Nar Shadda was already at the edge of the galactic rim, he didn’t know all that much about any place farther. And he had spent his life roaming the galaxy from end to end. While he did not know where she was from, he did know one thing.

_“That’s quite a distance to travel, especially to a place like this. Why would you come here?”_ This was not the type of world a young girl like should be traveling alone. He suspected that if they had not met, it would have quite literally eaten her up. With a slender body like that and her exotic fur, she would have been lucky to end up dead. The slave market would have not treated her kindly.

A’den noticed that she had not responded to his question and so the mandalorian looked back to her. The feline had stopped a few feet away and was staring off into the distance, a sight that made him frown. He had seen that look before, often times when he caught himself staring into a mirror.

_“Katt…?”_

The sound of his voice must have kickstarted her mind because the feline shook her pink furred head and grinned weakly as she sped to catch up with him.

“Heh sorry… just got a little distracted.” She chuckled halfheartedly, rubbing the back of her head in embarrassment. “I guess you could say I was running from something.”

So… she was running. But the question remained, from what?

A’den cut that thought off, confused with himself. What was he doing? Why did he care what she did? He had only met her today. He had no reason to feel the need to pry into her life. What he needed to do was focus on his contract. This was to be his big breakthrough after years of dead ends and cold trails. Once he completed the task, he would at last gain the location of his prey. This was not the time to become distracted, not while he was so close.

“Hey. Just because I zoned out doesn’t mean you get to.”

A’den felt something prod his breastplate and the mandalorian glanced down to see Katt standing in front of him, claw poised to strike again.

_“Let’s keep moving.”_ He ordered, stepping past the bewildered feline.  

The sooner he finished up on this forsaken world the better. He was thinking it was about time to take a break from bounty hunting anyways. Laying low on Mandalore for a few weeks would be a better use of his time then chasing after a few lousy marks. He could use that time to speak with Krussk and seek out a few of his comrades and catch up. With any luck the local cantina would still be standing, but knowing the rowdy patrons personally, he doubted it. That place had been rebuilt more times than he cared to remember. Liquor and mandalorians went hand-in-hand, most times not in a good way. A’den preferred to keep his distance from the drink, having one too many binges. It was too easy to just drink away ones sorrows, and he had no intentions of doing that, no matter how tantalizing it might seem.

Breaking away of his errant thoughts, A’den reevaluated his surroundings, not noticing anything different. Everything on Nar Shadda looked the same, the same rusted out buildings and the same unclean masses, both figuratively and literally.

_“Hey Katt, are we close?”_   The feline knew where Chord was hiding and that pretty much was the extent of her usefulness to him. He had no intention of letting her interfere with his contract. She would only get in his way. A’den just needed her to point him in the right direction.

She took a few moments to study look around before nodding slowly. “We should actually be pretty close. From the records I pulled from the holonet, he placed a considerable down payment on an apartment in this area. The building’s called the _Hutt House_.”

_“Sounds like a great place”_

Katt shrugged. “Yeah, well it’s supposed to one of the better places to set up around here. From what I read they boast of having the lowest mortality rates. And… it’s actually right there.” She pointed over his shoulder.

_“Wow… impressive.”_ A’den muttered unenthusiastically as he took in the sight of the rundown building. He supposed it was better off than most, only a handful of the windows were broken and most of the lights were working. As the name suggested, there was a neon sign on the front of the building depicting one of the slug-like aliens in front of a house of indeterminable type.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Anyways, he’s in the penthouse, top floor.”

_“Looks like SoroSuub pays their turncoats well, which makes it easier on me… no witnesses this way.”_ Dropping his gauntlet, he grasped the body of the blaster rifle slung from his shoulders. “ _You should wait outside, this’ll be quick.”_

“Oh I don’t think so.” She waged her finger at him. “I’m going with you. This is my job too ya know.”

_“Look…”_ He growled, turning to face her. _“I appreciate your help speeding the process up. But I don’t need it anymore.”_

“I don’t care, I’m still coming.” She gave him a fiercely determined glare and stomped her foot down for emphasis. If she thought it would bolster her point, it only made his ire grow. She looked more like a petulant child throwing a fit.

_“Stay. Out. Here.”_ He elucidated each word vehemently.

Leaning towards him, she smirked, flashing her fangs.

“No.”

It took all of A’den’s force of will to refrain from wrapping his crushguants around her furred throat. Instead he satisfied himself with clenching them into fists and imagining such a situation. There was no true reason to kill her, and technically she did have a point. There was a slight possibility that his exclusion of her could upset Incom, though he could not see why. Still, he was not a man who took risks like that. He needed the money and the information they possessed. Everything had to go perfectly otherwise the last ten months were all but wasted. The info Incom held was the final piece of the puzzle, and would give him the definitive location of his mark, the bastard’s precise coordinates. A’den _needed_ that data, desperately.

Sighing, he unclenched his gauntlets. _“Fine… but if you botch this hit in any way, it’ll be your pelt I’ll hand over to the Incom rep.”_

Instantly her expression lit up with that infuriating grin.

“Deal!”

A’den groaned and stepped by her, heading for the building in question, the smiling feline in tow. Outwardly, he was furious. But inwardly, he was impressed. She certainly had a lot of guts, but if she wasn’t careful someone just might rip them out.

 

*****

 

The first floor of the building was deserted, nothing but the ever constant piles of refuse and what looked like crusted multicolored blood on the floors and walls. The lights flickered in their fixtures and the only way up was a very hazardous looking turbolift.

“Hmm… nice place, though it could use a little work though.” Katt remarked as she stepped inside, watching as one of the lights burned out in a faint shower of sparks. “Or maybe a lot… I can only imagine what the worst place on Nar Shadda looks like.”

_“I’ve seen it...”_ A’den moved towards the lift, ignoring the filth stained room. _“This is nothing.”_

“Are you always such a downer?” The feline grumbled as she followed after him like a faithful kath hound.

_“I promised myself I would never come back here.”_ He vaguely replied, stepping into the lift as the feline joined him. Nar Shadda was the central cesspit of filth in all of known space. The only location more repulsive was the spice mines of Kessel. A’den had only ever been there once on a cargo run, and that was enough for him to never want to go back.

The doors sealed behind them and began its ascent. “Sure this place is a grade-A garbage dump, but it can’t be that bad right?” She looked to him curiously.

A’den met her eyes with his expressionless visor. _“You should consider yourself lucky you didn’t leave the port alone. I’ve already tagged several individuals stalking you. If not for my presence, I don’t doubt you would find out for yourself how bad this world really is. It was foolish of you to come here. You should have stayed home girl. The galaxy is a very big place and you’d do best to stay out of the depths… or you just might get lost in the dark.”_

The feline gave no outward reaction to his harsh words, but he could see in her glistening sapphire eyes that they had hit home. Katt turned away in silence, preferring to focus her attention on the graffiti covered walls of the lift, which suited him just fine.

It was better this way. He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here to see the job done. That’s why they paid his high price and acquired his services. What mattered the emotions of some small time merc? They were a dime a dozen and they all had their own petty tales. It was most likely he wouldn’t even see her again anyway.

Still, as he studied her sullen muzzle he felt the beginnings of an emotion he had done his best to suppress the last few years… guilt. He could feel that tiny, insignificant little sentiment, tenaciously clinging onto his core. All it had ever done was land him in heated waters. He remembered when he started out, how many times his regrets and indecision had almost gotten him killed. Remorse was a luxury a mercenary could ill afford. There were many sentients in the galaxy that would not hesitate to exploit it and him by default.

A’den had learned to only ever trust his fellow mandalorians, _aruetiise_ were well deserving of their title, traitors, foreigners and outsiders all. He had yet to meet one he could trust and most had done their best to see him dead.

So why did this feeling of misplaced culpability pester him?

All he did know was that this contract was proving to be more of a migraine then he had first anticipated.

Knowing he was breaking one of his own cardinal rules, A’den raised a gauntlet and uncertainly rested it on her shoulder. He offered no words, that being the farthest extent he was willing to go to show his support. A’den did know what it was like to start from nothing, to feel pathetic and powerless. Many scars were hidden under his armor, physical reminders of his past weakness.

Upon feeling his large hand, she glanced back at him, studying his featureless mask before slowly pulling her muzzle into a guarded smile.

With an almost inaudible ding, the turbolift slowed to a stop and opened its doors, letting them disembark. A’den pulled his gauntlet away from her and took the lead out into the hall. With there being only one apartment, the corridor was unusually short, with a pair of double durasteel doors at the far end.

Crossing the distance, they stopped at a small keypad. Seeing as this was their stop, he took time to check over his equipment once more to ensure everything would function when the time came. By all means this should prove to be an easy mark, but he had no desire to fail because of equipment failure. Satisfied everything was as need be, he knew he was ready. All that remained to be seen was whether Katt would get in his way. And just as he was reaching for his security access tunneler, the feline pushed past him excitedly.

“Ooh, I got this. Let me take a crack at it!” She eagerly reached into her vest and pulled out a device similar in design to the one he carried on his arm, if a little different, seeming to stick with her pinkish color scheme. Deciding to let her feel useful, he allowed Katt to hack the door.

Acting quickly, the feline took a few moments to pry the pad from the wall and access the wires behind it, running a connection between the small device in her paws and the cables of the security system. And within moments, the light flashed green and there was a noticeable click from the doors.

Speedily reassembling the keypad, she smirked smugly at him once she finished. “Told ya I got it.”

A’den was once more surprised by the feline woman. It would have taken him a little longer to crack the encryption, and he was an expert code breaker. Katt did have skill, if a little rough around the edges. And in a few years she might even make a decent merc, not a great one, but decent.

_“Yes, yes you did indeed.”_   He admitted with a concealed smile as he moved to the doors. The motion sensors detected his presence and opened them with a gust of displaced air. Stopping at the threshold, he unslung his blaster and shouldered it. If Chord Poftme was home, he wouldn’t be enjoying it for very long.

The first thing A’den noticed was the darkness, easily pierced by the night vision supplied by his HUD. If he was to guess, Poftme wasn’t home, or if he was he was most likely sleeping.

The penthouse was a decently sized, with several large chambers and what looked like a living room at the end, providing a view of Nar Shadda’s crowded, smog clouded skyline. Hearing footsteps behind him, he took his left arm away from the barrel and reached behind him to place his palm on Katt’s chest, halting her.

_“Stay back.”_ He uttered in a low growl. If Poftme was aware of their presence, the last thing he needed was for her to get caught in a sudden crossfire.

Thankfully, instead of her usual lip, she nodded and took a step back.

Appreciative, he nodded in return and brought his arm back to his weapon. Slowly, he worked his way from room to room, looking for the zabrak. He had been given a detail description of the alien, and so he could quickly identify him. He was also prepared to extract DNA if the corpse became too mangled to recognize, a situation that was not all that uncommon.

So far, there was no sign of him in any of the rooms. The refresher was empty, the bedroom showed some indication that someone had been there recently, but besides that it appeared almost as if the place was abandoned.

Confused, he stopped his investigation at the living room and motioned for Katt to approach. _“You’re sure this is his place?”_

She nodded confidently. “I know it is, I spent a whole day tracking him down and the holonet trail leads here. His name is on the lease.”

_“Maybe it was a diversion?”_ If so, it was a damn good one for a low-level researcher.

“Maybe…” She agreed uncertainly.

A’den prompted a second overlook of the penthouse, this time using his HUD’s advanced analytical software. Running a scan, he combed through the each chamber again, with no results. Going back to the living room where Katt was, he check there as well, soon revealing a pair of abnormalities from the wall by the couch.

Walking over, he placed a gauntlet on the surface and ran it over the odd depression he found. Magnifying the section of wall, he discovered that it was some sort of passageway, about the size of a full grown human, as was the other discrepancy.

There was no indication that they were escape hatches, the far more likely conclusion being they were concealed rooms of some kind, but to what end? His HUD had not picked up on any triggers for traps or anything that might open these hidden doors. So what was their purpose?

“Hey A’den, there’s some sort of… thing here.”

Following the sound of Katt’s voice, he saw the feline standing at the opposite side of the room as him, fiddling around with a hidden panel she had uncovered.

Not moments after he felt a sudden premonition of imminent danger. Hurriedly looking back to the two concealed trapdoors, he knew what they were.

A’den reached for the blaster hanging from its sling and raised it, just as a substantial force slugged his breastplate as a hole exploded from the wall. The mandalorian staggered backwards as Katt swiveled over in alarm having heard a blaster go off, and she watched as the two previously veiled doorways snapped open, revealing two bipedal droids.

Acting fast, A’den yielded to the inertia afflicting him and dropped to the ground, rolling behind the couch. _“Katt, find cover!”_ He barked out as he rediscovered the grasp on his blaster.

Though momentarily stunned, the feline acted with admirable swiftness, bolting for the cover of the nearby hallway with a surprised yowl, trailed closely by a flurry of emerald bolts spewing from the droids’ wrist mounted blasters.

A’den recognized the automatons by their distinct reedy design, GX-series security droids. While no longer top of the line models, the GX-series had been known for their ruggedness and durability. Programmed to function parallel to a second unit, they were most effective while in pairs as was the case. But even in pairs, they were not that particularly dangerous to a mercenary like him. However, with Katt here, what would have been a simple matter was magnified significantly. At the moment he was regretting not bringing along a few thermal detonators or an EMP grenade.

Sliding up to the back of the couch, he chanced a brief glance at his breastplate to observe the damage. The marginal amount of blackened carbon scoring did not look all that bad, the _beskar’gam_ having absorbed most of the kinetic and thermic force of the close range energy bolt.

In the time he performed damage control, the droids’ had already considered their targeting data and preformed a threat assessment, focusing their aim on the couch he hid behind and unleashing a furious salvo of blaster shots from the weapon mounts built into their arms.

Never meant to withstand such a withering assault, the couch did not last long, catching fire as the high intensity lasers set it alight while being simultaneously shredded under the ruthless barrage.

His cover all but destroyed, A’den was forced to relocate. Rising to his feet, he backpedaled to the hallway where Katt had retreated to. Mid-withdrawal, he braced his blaster using his shoulder and took aim, squeezing off a single powerful lance of crimson energy. The free flowing cylindrical laser slammed into the armored chest of the automaton on the left, sparks flying as the bolt pierced its thick armor.

The droid lurched to the side, but did not stop its advance, countering with its own attack. A’den felt something impact his thigh and growled, stumbling backwards. There was no cover in the room, and he was starting to think it had been designed this way. They had walked straight into a trap. Chord was indeed far more dangerous than he had first theorized.

Another hit finding his abdomen, A’den finally made it to the cover of the hallway, armor smoking from numerous connecting shots.

“You okay?” Katt asked from behind him, concern layering thick in her voice.

_“I’ll live.”_ He peered out of cover and fired another ray of solid energy at the machines, the bolt finding its mark on one of their arms, sheering it off at the elbow. If distressed by its loss of limb, the automaton gave no sign of it as it peppered the wall corner with the blaster in its good arm, the acrid tang of ozone filling the crowded air of the penthouse, which he quickly corrected by venting the oxygen in his suit and switching to the reserve tank.

Katt was just going to have to tough it out.

He could probably take them on easily, but he wasn’t looking forward to the repairs to his armor that would come after a reckless stunt, so a different idea came to mind. _“Well, Miss This is My Job Too, looks like it’s your time to shine.”_

“What?!” She hissed over the sizzle of blaster fire.

_“I need you to distract them with your furred, unarmored body while I get around them. GX –series security droids have weakened plating from the sides and rear.”_ He hurriedly explained to the unenthused feline.

“Why don’t you do it?” She demanded heatedly. “You’re the one wearing a thousand pounds of armor!”

_“If you want to wade through a hail of blaster bolts be my guest.”_ He motioned to the living room that was all but devastated by the droids’ continuous stream of emerald rays.

Frowning, she shoved past him and took his place on the wall, unholstering her blaster. “I hate you…” She sullenly muttered under her breath.

_“Yeah, you and just about everyone else I’ve met.”_ He chuckled, getting ready to run.

Edging her blaster pistol around the corner, she tentatively let loose a few shots in the direction of the security bots.

Seeing that was the best he was going to get, A’den lowered his shouldered and charged forwards, his destination, the small table near the wall of windows. Thankfully, the droid’s programming considered her to be the biggest threat since she was avidly attacking them, allowing him to skirt past with only a glancing blow to his forearm. Dropping to the table, he grabbed it and flipped it on its side, using the slab of durasteel as makeshift cover, propping his rifle on the edge and leveraging it at the one armed machine.

A single pull of the trigger, and he blew a crater in its chest, frying circuitry and melting steel. With a quiet groan of tortured metal, the droid sagged to the floor, its weapon firing into the ground as it still processed its unexpected and forceful shut down.

Its partner out for the count, the other machine instantly prioritized him, aiming both its weapon arms in his direction. Acting preemptively, the mandalorian kicked the table up and gestured at the droid, the rectangular chunk of durasteel flying through the air and ramming into the automaton with enough force to bisect it, dropping the two halves to the ground in a functionless heap.

Instantly, the sounds of combat halted, filling the air with silence and bitter smoke from the flaming couch. Placing a boot on the flaming remnants of the couch, he turned his attention over to the hallway.

_“Hey Katt, you still alive?”_ He called out, booting the burning furniture out the window with the clatter of shattered glass. When the feline did not immediately respond, he felt an uncharacteristic hike of concern in his chest.

“Amazingly, somehow I am.”  She muttered, stepping out of her cover to eye him dubiously. “What the hell kind of half-assed plan was that?” The feline was quite the sight, her fur was puffing out from the static buildup from the close ranged and continuous discharge of blaster weapons and her once prim and well-kept outfit was roughed up by their brief firefight.

_“One that worked it seems.”_ He replied, grinning under his helmet. At the moment he was inordinately pleased.

Stepping towards him, she looked to the two droid wrecks, smoke seeping through their cracked plating. “Looks like Chord paid for some extra security as well.”

_“It would look that way. It’s possible he knew someone was after him.”_

“I would wager so. You don’t just run off with secrets from a company like Incom without knowing their going to be looking for you.” She nodded, eyeing the halved machine. “What’d you do to that one?”

_“I just used a little trick is all.”_ He replied neutrally.

“A trick huh? Mind teaching it to me?”

_“Sorry, I don’t think it’s one you can do. It requires certain… skills.”_

Shrugging at the evasive answer, she returned her attention to the demolished area around them. “We sure did a number on this place.”

_“I don’t think anyone’ll mind. However, I would like to know what it was you found before we were interrupted.”_

“Right, the panel…” She nodded, leading him to the wall mounted plate. “I found it behind a painting. Whoever designed this room was not very bright. I mean come on. _Everyone_ knows to look behind paintings.” Pulling the cover to the side, she revealed another keypad of the like they found at the door.

“Want me to crack it?” She offered.

He motioned towards it. _“Be my guest.”_

Retrieving her tunneler, she took a little more time to break the code on this one. But once she finished she thumbed the execute icon and unhooked the device. “The encryption on this one was a little better, maybe there’s something important back there. Maybe there’s a stash of credits!” Her ears perked up and the feline’s tail flicked back and forth in excitement at the prospect of money.

He just hoped that whatever it was it might help them discover the location of Chord.

Instead of a small safe, the entire wall began to shift. Surprised, they stepped back and watched as it dragged open, revealing another room, a safe room from all appearances. A’den was able to infer that the droids had been meant to kill any intruders while Chord was safely sequestered away inside his little panic room. It was just unfortunate for him that Incom hired a professional. That trick might have killed a different man, but not him.

All it did was piss him off.

“Looks like Chord just might still be here.” Katt eyed the second more heavily reinforced door.

_“If he is, he made a mistake.”_ A’den checked the charge for his blaster as he stepped towards the door, pleased that it was still nearly at full charge. The powerful weapon ate up a lot of energy. _“Get this open.”_

Using her tunneler for the third time, she wasted no time in popping it like a tin can. And as the doors pulled apart, a fearful voice announced itself.

“Wait, don’t shoot!”

A’den only waited for the door to open enough for his bulk before thundering inside to find a horned man standing in the corner by a bank of monitors depicting the thrashed living room, small fires still burning in places on the carpet.

The zabrak was easily in his late thirties, with large spine-like protrusions decorating his hairless skull and deep age lines in his tan skin. A’den ran a brief and unnecessary identification scan on the alien, already knowing that it was Chord Poftme.

Still, he was paid to be thorough.

“Please don’t shoot me!” He pleaded, holding his hands in the air fearfully. “I don’t know what Incom offer-”

_“Poftme…”_ A’den cut his plea bargain short with a low snarl. _“Your previous employer offers their regards.”_

“Wai-”

A’den pulled the trigger of his blaster, the thick crimson beam crashing into the zabrak’s chest with enough force to momentarily pin him to the wall, whatever counteroffer he had been about to make ruthlessly terminated as the alien’s freshly minted corpse sagged lifelessly to the ground. Crossing the room and wasting little time, the bounty hunter crouched down beside the still warm body and snapped a picture with his HUD and transmitted it back to the local representative of Incom.

“That was a little hardcore.” Katt muttered, stopping to stand beside him staring down at the body in distaste. “I mean you didn’t even hear him out.”

_“No reason to.”_ A’den explained as he rose back to his heavy greaves. _“I don’t renegotiate contracts or go back on one once its set. Incom wanted him gone. If he had been smart he would not have tried to steal from them in the first place, then I wouldn’t have even needed to be here. Besides…”_ He gestured around him to the ruined living room outside and the barren chamber they stood in _. “He had nothing to offer me.”_

“Dude, that’s just cold.”

A’den shook his helm indifferently, moving to the door. _“If you don’t like it you should pick another line of work.”_

Katt glanced at the zabrak’s corpse, a ponderous frown forming on her muzzle as she also turned to leave.

 

*****

At last he could leave this cursed dirtball of a planet. He had plans to make for the upcoming days. By the time he stepped out of the building, Incom’s bounty had been transferred to one of his accounts and was ready to be laundered. That should give him plenty of credits to refuel and rearm _Gra’tua_ and set course for Kuat where he could offload his cargo. Then it would be a straight shot back to Mandalore for a few weeks, which should give him enough time to prepare before he would at last have his vengeance.

All he was waiting for at the moment was the data transfer from Incom. It should be uploaded to his wrist mounted comms system at any moment.

Everything was in place, expect for one small detail.

He had no idea what to do about Katt. He supposed at the very least he could see her safely back to the starport, she did help him a little. The feline had received her cut from the job as well so he didn’t need to concern himself with that.

Glancing over his shoulder, he watched the feline trudging in step behind him. She was not in as high spirits as she usually was. And looking back he might have been unnecessarily harsh in his dealings with her. Still, his occupation often placed him in a cynical mood and that was not likely to change in the near future. But he guessed he could allow himself to tone it down considering their partnership was at its end.

_“Hey Katt…”_

The feline tore her gaze away from the street and focused on him inquisitorially.

_“You did pretty good out there today.”_

Her frown shifted into a smile and her tail jumped back into motion as she straightened her posture.

_“You could use a little work and your performance leaves much to be desired, but I think you might have a chance in this business.”_

Her shoulders slumped and Katt chuckled with a roll of her bright blue eyes.

“Wow… thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He nodded and turned his focus back to the street. He did mean every word of it. She was a capable individual, she just had to work on… well everything actually. But there was a slim measure of hope that she could succeed and make something of herself.

They made good time back to the port. And the locals kept a clear distance from the pair, easily seeing the mandalorians recently damaged armor and unwilling to get a closer look. A’den was somewhat vexed with the damages. _Beskar_ was a hard material to repair. He did have a store of the metals onboard in the cargo hold, but it was a long and tedious process to mend his suit. The practice of working _beskar_ was known to only the mandalorian people, and he had spent many years of his youth in tutelage under the clan’s ironsmith.

Luckily the armor had absorbed all but a small fraction of the energy. All he would really have to do was buff out the scorch marks. And he had wanted to perform a more thorough examination of his suit after the contract anyways.

The closer they got to the port, the more his anticipation grew. He’d been waiting to find the location of his quarry since before he jumped off Mandalore for the first time. That man had taken everything away from him, his family and his childhood. A’den would not be satisfied until he was dead at his feet.

Deep in thought, he hardly noticed passing the attendant’s booth and the two gamorians, but he did not fail to notice Katt standing awkwardly beside him, shuffling her feet around gawkily.

“So… I guess this is it right?” She asked, looking up to him with a wane smile. “The job’s done and we can go our separate ways.”

_“So we can.”_ He replied evenly.

The feline gave a knowing nod, rubbing her paw across the back of her neck. “We made a pretty good team didn’t we? I mean it wasn’t for very long, but I think we did all right.”

_“It wasn’t so bad.”_ He admitted. _“You were the only person on this planet I could trust, but I think you preformed... adequately.”_

“That’s it?” She demanded, pulling on an insulted tone, paws firmly stanced on her thin waist. “I preformed _adequately_.” Glaring hard at him, her grimace slowly vanished, replaced by a smile as the feline at last started to get a grasp of his odd sense of humor. “Right… of course I did.

A’den held his gauntlet out. _“It was an altogether interesting experience Miss Monroe, one I am not likely to forget anytime soon.”_

“I’d agree with you there. It was certainly something else.” She grinned good-humoredly and shook his hand.

_“Stay out of trouble Katt, I’d hate to find you on the bounty board.”_

The feline chuckled. “You wouldn’t take it though… right?”

Her question was met with silence.

“ _Ret'urcye mhi_ , Katt.” He patted her on the shoulder, turning towards his ship.

“Hey, what does that mean?” She shouted to his retreating back.

_“It means goodbye.”_ He replied vaguely, not bothering to look back. _“Watch your back out there Katt. Figure out who you can trust and keep them close. This galaxy is not one to explore on your own. You’ll only die faster.”_

Shaking her muzzle in consternation, she turned away from him to go back to her own ship. With A’den gone, she knew it would not be wise to stay any longer. And his fleeting words of advice struck a chord inside her. Maybe it was time to head back. There were a few people she wanted to see again.

 

*****

 

A’den was confident he could leave Katt on her own. As long as she left the planet soon she should be fine. He hoped she would follow his advice. It would be unfortunate if she was killed or shackled into slavery. With the contract concluded she was effectively an unimportant figure once more. Her wellbeing was not his priority; any trouble she got into now would not be any of his.

Once he turned away he didn’t look back, he had no reason to. Instead he looked forwards, towards his ship, his lips sinking into a frown as he spotted a man standing beside the turbolift. A’den lowered his hand to his side, closer to one of his blaster pistols, and casually approached the human loitering outside his ship.

_“Can I help you, aruetii?”_ He inquired with an air of mock pleasantry.

The human turned to him, taking in the sight of the mandalorian without a sign of concern in his dark green eyes. “Yes I think you can. I’m looking for a bounty hunter, goes by the name A’den Lok.” His tone was youthful and naïve, and outwardly he appeared to be some down on his luck human teen in his early twenties.

After a brief glance at the man, the mandalorian snorted contemptuously, pulling his hand away from his side and folding both across his chest.

It didn’t matter how baggy and dirt covered the man’s clothes were, or how laid back or innocent he seemed to be. A’den knew how to spot an imperial agent when he saw one. They were wholly incapable of wiping away that aura of ubiquitous and erroneous superiority from their arrogant faces, nor could they break from their rigid discipline to save their lives.

_“What do you want imperial?”_ He demanded gruffly. _“You here to collect that bounty?”_

Instead of acting surprised or worried, the young man let out a hearty laugh, though his eyes instantly hardened and any false pretenses were dropped like a sack of permacrete as he assumed a martial posture, hands firmly clasped behind his back, an instinct he should have learned to suppress when on a planet like Nar Shadda.

“I see your reputation in the reports was not falsified. Don’t worry Mr. Lok. I have no intention of attempting to collect.” 

_“I don’t recall ever being troubled, imperial.”_ He grunted irritably.

“Ah yes…” The human glanced around with an almost unnoticeable fraction of unease. “I would appreciate it if you dropped that title here.”

A’den chuckled. _“I would imagine the locals would not be so enthused to hear about an imperial agent. Perhaps I **should** go inform them? It would be the neighborly thing to do.” _

“I would prefer that you do not.” The man nervously pulled at his collar.

_“What’s wrong?”_ A’den leaned closer, his helmet hovering millimeters from the man’s pointed nose as he whispered with a hint of menace growling from within the synthesizer in his obsidian mask. _“I thought you agents were proud of your work. I bet the people here would be excited to hear your stories of public oppression. I myself would love to hear them. Tell me… how many people have you tortured? How many have you put to death?”_

Admirably, the man was unwavering in his response. “Only as many as I needed to protect the Empire.”

_“Good answer.”_ A’den nodded in satisfaction and straightened his spine. If there was one thing he respected, it was strength. _“Now… if you’re not here to collect, tell me why you’ve come. And be quick, my patience is not infinite.”_

“Of course…” Clearing his throat, the imperial pulled a datapad out from his loose-fitting coat, holding it out for A’den to take. “To cut thing short, the Empire has need of your… services.”

_“Is that so?”_ The bounty hunter inquired sardonically, snatching the pad from the man’s hand and giving it a brief inspection. _“Because I thought they placed a bounty on my head?”_ He asked in clear amusement. It seemed that the wiles of the Empire were oddly fickle.

“We are willing to… rescind the bounty if you accept the contract.”

Now A’den was genuinely curious. _“Really now… you imperials are always so stubborn with your lust for revenge. What could be so important as to be willing to cancel the hunt?”_

The man gestured to the datapad in A’den’s gauntlets. “There has been an alarming rise of activity in the Meridian Sector, entire convoys of transports and cargo vessels have vanished without a trace in recent months. And the higher ups believe the rebellion to be responsible. If this continues, we will be forced to shut down the route or send a full fleet in to investigate. Either scenario would eat up considerable time and manpower at a point in time when we cannot afford it.”

He scrolled through the information and had to hand it to the Empire. If anything they were tediously thorough when it came to data mining. There was info on each convoy that had disappeared, detailed data on all personnel and materials onboard each individual missing vessel. And as they all had been carrying munitions and food stuffs, he could see the possibility of it being the rebels. But they were not the only ones out there with a grudge against the Empire. _“Why not pirates? They’re known to operate heavily in the Telos System, and it’s only a short hyperspace jump from Meridian.”_ With the possibility of a profitable contract, A’den was all business. Though he was still not certain whether he was going to take the job.

“The possibility has been factored and eliminated. After examining the faint hyper drive trails left by the attackers, we’ve concluded that these coordinated guerrilla tactics are not native to that system or any other in the Meridian Sector. In fact we know where the drive signatures are from”

_“If that’s true, then how could the rebellion be accountable?”_

“Tell me Lok…” The imperial agent’s tone was inquisitive. “Have you ever heard of the Lylat System?”

The name did sound familiar, but he could not place it.

Without an answer, the agent continued on. “It is a recognized rebel ploy for them to pander for aid from other sympathetic sources. And it has long been known to command that the Lylat System ranks among those, as they hold the same misguided ideals.”

_“Then why don’t you just do what you imperials are so fond of doing? Send a fleet over there and subjugate them.”_ A’den still could not see why they needed him.

“The… political situation as it currently stands, would not find such an action favorable. The Lylat System is an independent republic, and in high standing with many members in the imperial senate, seeing as they are a major exporter of raw materials. Open conflict with them would not be currently advisable. We would need concrete evidence to get the support we needed to press a vote on an invasion.”

_“Are not the hyper drive trails enough? If they are that unique then it could only be them.”_

The agent sighed in exasperation. “That brings us around to the reason why we need your services.  Imperial intelligence has managed to get some relevant data that brings things to light. The Lylatian forces under employ of the rebellion constitute of a small band of mercenaries. This means politically…”

_“They are not truly involved.”_ A’den finished the agent’s sentence with a knowing huff. It was a common tactic, using mercenary proxies to offer assistance without having to assume any liability, something the CIS had been quite fond of employing back in the Clone Wars.

“Indeed, we have managed to pinpoint whose these individuals are. They’re actually quite famous back in their home system. The datapad has all the information we have been able to gather on them.”

A’den tapped the sub tab and scrolled down the list of six targets, mildly interested.

_“Starfox…”_ He mused to himself in a low rumble. _“Not very original.”_ He admitted, reading the name and species of the group’s leader, a one Fox Mccloud. And he could not help but notice their similarities to Katt. _“Not very original at all.”_ There was an impressive amount of information on each member of the team, ages, psyche profiles, known associates, even home addresses. _“How did you get all this evidence?”_

The imperial smirked. “Despite the distance from Lylat to the Empire’s border, we do have several local agents in system. We have eyes and ears all across the galaxy, even in a backwater like that.”

_“Then why do you need me?”_ He asked, looking up from the datapad. _“Hand this over to the senate and you’ll have your votes.”_

“Unfortunately, it is still not that easy.” The man replied with a grimace. “You do not understand how close their ties are, to many of the politicians. Over the years they have cultivated a tightknit acquaintance with quite a few recognized figures, figures that hold great sway over the vast majority. Since they lack the military power to openly stand up to the Empire, they subverted this by attaching themselves to the senate, a tactic that I will grudgingly applaud for its success.”

_“I thought the Emperor had a tighter hold over his little clubhouse?”_ A’den chuckled derisively.

His grimace contorting into a hardened frown, the man replied through tightly clenched teeth. “In light of the rebellions increased terrorist activities, a few in high command believe it would be… prudent to be more cautious in our pursuits.”

_“In other words, you fear they just might actually get support from the senate. Someone should tell Palpatine he needs to better control his hounds.”_ A’den found all of this to be of great amusement to him. It seemed the Empire’s heavy-handed policies were finally circling back to bite them in their collective asses.

A’den could hear the imperial grinding his teeth. “That is not the point of this discussion, Bounty Hunter. All I need to know is if you will take the assignment.”

_“Maybe… why can’t you just hire someone else? They don’t look all that tough.”_ Sure, the reports he skimmed mentions some experience in a war or two, but that was common for a mercenary company.

“That as it may be, they are not to be taken lightly, reports state they are excellent pilots and have among them, a known force user, a cerinian adept. And it’s is well known you mandalorians are proficient at dealing with their like.”

_“Force user?”_ A’den rumbled in intrigue. _“I thought you Empire types had gotten rid of most of them._

“True, Lord Vader and The Emperor have done their best to remove or subjugate the Jedi order and all other similar institutions. But it is known from pre-imperial records, that the Jedi built an academy on the world of Cerinia, a planet in the Lylat System, at some point in the last hundred or so years. You will find all relevant data on the pad.”

The mandalorian shrugged dismissively. _“Don’t care much on the why, but a force user doesn’t come cheap.”_

“We are willing to accommodate any price if you can bring them all in, dead or alive, though we would prefer the latter. Lord Vader has also expressed a particular interest in the force user, alive and mostly unharmed. A bonus will be administered if you fulfill that criteria.”

A’den pinpointed the material on the force user contained in the pad, giving it a more careful look through. _“Says here her name is Krystal….”_ He hummed thoughtfully to himself as he studied the picture of the cerulean vixen. The image looked to have been snapped from a distance by a shoddy investigator in a crowd, meaning it was more blur then pixels and hard to make out among the others crowding the scene. But from what he did see, she was actually quite the looker. He wanted to read the bio on her, but beside her first name and suspected age, there was nothing else. _“What? No surname?”_

“Our data on Cerinia is not as complete as the other planets in the system. They are a reclusive race, and any information pertaining to them or their activities is sparse at best. And since the entire race is force sensitive, it makes covert information gathering nigh impossible.”

_“All of them?”_ To think there was still an entire planet of force users untouched by the Empire, it was hard for him to believe. “ _If that’s true, how has the Emperor not done something about this?”_ A’den did not know much about Palpatine, but from what he did know, the man was not one to let something like that go unexploited.

“As with the case with the rest of the system, any actions against them are difficult to accomplish. The link they hold with the senate has been entrenched since long before the Clone Wars even started. The Emperor has been looking for an excuse to cut relations with them, and this presents us with a unique opportunity, which is why we would have them alive if possible. If we can extract the truth behind their activities, then we will have all the verification we need to severe this link and petition for occupation.” For once he sounded almost eager.

A’den nodded slowly, lowering the pad from view and shifting his attention back to the imperial agent. “Okay… say I accept, what’s the plan?”

“The strategy is simple. We license your ship as a freelance imperial cargo freighter and load you with the necessary supplies as to make it believable on scans. Then all you have to do is travel the flight path. When and if they attack, subdue or eliminate them. An interdictor cruiser and its escorts will be on standby just outside sensor range. Give it the signal and it’ll jump in and activate its gravity well generator. Then it should be a simple matter of mopping them up. A small squadron of Tie Fighters will be on station to provide assistance.”

It did sound like a solid plan, and the mission did interest him. But he had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. Once the data from Incom came in, he wanted to be ready to move out at a second’s notice. He could not afford to get caught up in another contract so soon.

Shaking his head, A’den pushed the datapad into the officer’s hands. _“Sorry imp, but I don’t have the time for a contract like that. I already have business elsewhere.”_

Instead of troubled or angered, the man simply smiled at his visor with an irksome self-satisfaction. “Ah yes, you must be waiting on the data transfer from Income. I am sorry to say, but it will not be coming.”

A’den froze, his helmet swiveling to silently stare into the imperial agent’s conceited expression, his growing malice hidden behind the t-shaped mask.

“As you are no doubt aware, Incom is a distinguished supplier of munitions and materials for the Imperial Army and as such are beholden to us. So they were more than happy to handover all data pertaining to your… interests, before you even arrived on Nar Shadda.”

As the agent’s superiorly toned words filtered through his helmet speakers, A’den grasped their obvious intent. A rush of all-consuming hatred ignited the bloodlust lying dormant in his veins. The mandalorian was enraged at the man’s audacity. Exploding into movement, He snatched the short human’s baggy collar and lifted him into the air, dragging the stunned imperial across the tarmac and violently slamming him into the hull of his starship with enough force to nearly snap his spine. Ripping a blaster pistol from its holster, he jammed the barrel of the weapon into the man’s groin, eliciting a whimper from him.

_“Listen closely **shab’rudur**. I’ll put this in a way your puny brain can understand.”_ A’den spat aggressively, punctuating his displeasure by slamming the now frightened man into the hull a second time, sending his eyes spinning into their sockets _. “If you do not give me that information I’ll blast your balls out through your ass.”_

“I-I don’t have it!” The man mewled pitifully, any previous trace of his military discipline instantly shattered. “Only Commander Calros has it in his possession.”  

_“Not only have you interfered in a hunt fifteen years in the making, but you have gravely insulted my honor. If you value your life, speak quickly.”_ His almost banal frigid tone betrayed the unfettered firestorm raging in his heart. If A’den disliked the Empire before, he all but despised them now.

Realizing that his life very much hung on his next words, the imperial agent spoke quickly. “It’s true I do not have the info, but if you do accept this contract, Commander Calros will hand it over to you. That is all I can say.”

A’den was sorely tempted to do to the man as he promised, but the information they stole from him was more important than briefly satisfying his rage. If he killed this imperial, chances are it would be nearly impossible to retrieve what they took. He was an excellent warrior, but even he could not face the might of the Empire alone.  He would endure this severe insult, if even for a slim chance to get to the man who murdered his family. The oath of revenge he swore eighteen years ago outweighed this instance of treachery.

Snarling, he ripped the imperial from the hull of his ship and threw him to the ground, tearing his collar in the process. Gasping for air, the human scrambled to his feet, eyeing the mandalorian fearfully. “Very well, I’ll take the contract. But I have additional stipulations.”

“What… what are they?” The other man rasped, rubbing at the developing bruise on the back of his head.

_“First, I won’t take anything less than 750,000 credits. I am going to keep any and all cargo loaded to my ship. You will fully refuel and arm my ship before the operation. My bounty is to be taken down. Oh… and I need a vocabulator for a droid, an HK unit.”_

The imperial hesitantly nodded at the extensive list of demands. “That is a lot to ask for...”

The mandalorian fingered the trigger for the blaster in his gauntlet.

“But I am certain we can accommodate each of your requests.”

_“I’m not finished.”_ A’den growled, making the man flinch. _“I want him, brought in when I bring your targets. The tradeoff will be at a place of my choosing, and if I detect a single star destroyer  in system, or you fail to bring him, then I walk.”_

The agent mulled the request over before nodding a second time. “That is… acceptable. We will contact you once the preparations are complete.”

A’den bobbed his helmet in acknowledgment. _“Good….it has been pleasure doing business with you. Now make yourself scarce before I make good on my threat.”_

Flinching, the imperial turned and hastily made his way back to a ship on the opposite end of the field, almost in a dead run.

A’den watched him leave with a scowl, his gauntlets balled tightly into fists. An empty fuel barrel a few yards to his left, violently collapsed in on itself, crushed by an unseen force. Exhaling heavily, the mandalorian turned around and stepped on the lift to enter his ship.

It looked like his vengeance would have to wait.


End file.
